Chapter 7
Oliver
Part of me wants to get up and leave. How the hell did I manage to fuck this up so royally?
Huxley seemed really pissed when he went to the bathroom, and ten minutes later he’s still not back.
I groan and drop my head into my hands. I sounded like such a douche!
Huxley probably thought I was mocking queer identities and making light of kissing a guy as if it meant nothing.
Shit!
“Sorry I took so long.” My head shoots as Huxley slips back into the booth opposite me. “My friend, Maddie, called. She had an argument with her girlfriend and wanted to vent.”
“All good,” I say, relieved. “Friends are important.”
“And so are dogs! Louis and I can’t wait to meet Cazaly. That’s if you still want to do that?” Huxley looks down at the table, but not before his cheeks flush a pretty pink.
“Of course I do. What breed is Louis? I wasn’t sure.”
Huxley’s eyes return to mine. “I got him at a shelter, but they said he’s mostly a King Charles Spaniel. Cazaly looks like a prize-winning greyhound.”
“Hmm…maybe not prize-winning, but yeah, I did get him from a breeder. That probably makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”
“It might, actually.”
“Oi!” I say as Huxley giggles. “I wanted a dog who would be okay with apartment living and not need a lot of exercise.”
“It’s true, then? They really don’t need much exercise?” Huxley eyes me suspiciously.
“Yes, it’s true. Cazaly just lays around and sleeps. Then we go out for thirty minutes after work, he sprints after a ball, comes home and collapses from exhaustion. You’ll see.”
We end up staying another thirty minutes, sharing dog photos and stories before getting up to leave. I should have suggested we grab dinner. Hopefully there’ll be a next time.
As we head out, I insist on walking Huxley to his car. We pause on the sidewalk, Huxley pulling out his car keys. I don’t want the night to be over, and I still feel uncomfortable about how I left that conversation. Perhaps I should have tried to clarify what I meant.
“Thanks for helping me at tryouts today,” I say instead. “I really appreciate it.”
“I didn’t do much. But I enjoyed it.”
The urge to reach out and touch Huxley has me sliding my hands in my pockets.
Now doesn’t feel quite right. Plus, I’m scared shitless.
Am I really contemplating making a move?
Baby steps, I remind myself. “You helped a lot, so I owe you one. When you have some nerdy maths team tryout, I’m your man. ”
Huxley smiles in that coy way of his—his chin down, his green eyes looking up at me from beneath long, dark lashes. Heat flares at my shirt collar, but I don’t look away. There’s some sort of pull between us, I’m sure of it.
I rip my hands from my pockets and pull Huxley into a hug. A little puff of air escapes his mouth as his chest hits mine with too much force, then his arms slowly circle around my waist, hands fisting the fabric of my shirt.
Huxley’s scent is sweet and alluring, like iris and ambrette. His curls are soft under my chin, and I’m tempted to run my fingers through his hair. My heart pounds impossibly faster with each second that passes.
This hug is entirely too long for friends, let alone new friends. I pull away quickly and step back. “Have a good weekend, Huxley,” I say, already turning away, unable to make eye contact.
“You too,” he replies.
I give a little wave but don’t look back, striding up the road towards my car. It’s only when I slip into the driver’s seat that I let out a shuddering sigh. “Oh my God! What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know what to wear.” Cazaly’s head pops up with a look of confusion or pity; I can’t be certain which. “You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about clothes,” I mutter before unbuttoning the third shirt I’ve tried on in the last five minutes.
I shouldn’t be going out to dinner with Jennifer. For sure she thinks this is a date, and I have no place going out with anyone while my head is stuck on Huxley.
I shrug off the shirt and put the very first one back on. It’s blue and boring and it’ll do.
My phone pings with a message.
Huxley: Hope you’re having a good weekend. What are you getting up to tonight?
I stare at the screen and groan. The last thing I want to do is tell Huxley I’m going out with Jennifer on a Saturday night. But I hate lying.
Me: Not too bad. Just heading out to dinner with a friend. How bout you?
It’s kind of the truth. Oh geez, I hope Huxley isn’t going out on a date. Slumping down on my bed, I wait for him to finish texting.
Huxley: Being boring. I’m reading. Enjoy dinner.
I smile, imagining Huxley tucked up in bed with a book.
Me: It’s not boring. What are u reading?
When there’s no dots after a few seconds, I drop my phone on the bed and pull my socks and shoes on.
Huxley: Okay I’m not really reading. I’m actually writing.
Me: Oh! Tell me more!! Is it fiction? Are you secretly a famous author?
Huxley: God no! Have you ever heard of AO3?
Me: Nope, what is it?
I immediately open safari and search A03. Fanfiction. What the fuck is fanfiction? Oh hang on, I’ve heard about this before. People write stories about their favourite characters or something.
Huxley: It’s a bit embarrassing. It’s fanfiction. I kinda get obsessed about book and TV characters. Remember I told you about naming Louis after a character in Interview with the Vampire? So I’m currently writing for that fandom.
Huxley: Bet none of that made any sense. Sorry, just ignore it.
Damn, I forgot to check out that show. I need to watch some tomorrow.
Me: Definitely not ignoring it. I want to read it. How can I find yours? Is it on this A03 website?
Huxley: Never telling you my username! You wouldn’t want to read it anyway – it’s very gay!! And smutty! It’s gay smut – you’d probably freak out and throw up!
I need to head out or I’ll be late. Hesitating for a second, I tap out my message, my pulse quickening. I press send and close my eyes, terrified of what Huxley will think.
Me: I promise I wouldn’t freak out. Nothing wrong with a little gay smut. Do you think I’ve never seen gay porn before?
I head towards the front door, giving Cazaly a quick pat on the way out and ignoring the text notification. For now.
When I pull up outside Jennifer’s house, I open Huxley’s message, my hands unsteady.
Huxley: I didn’t know straight men watched gay porn!
Oh fuck! Hopping out of the car, I shove my phone back into my pocket. This conversation will have to wait.
Jennifer opens the door with a radiant smile and sparkling eyes. Yep, she thinks this is a date. Well, aren’t I a first-grade douche!
Her red dress follows the curves of her body, the V-neckline revealing the soft flesh of her breasts.
Her long, brunette hair falls in waves over her shoulders and she must be in high heels if her increased height is anything to go by.
But I dare not look down for fear it will signal I’m sexually interested.
And it’s blindingly obvious that I’m not, because Jennifer is undoubtedly a nine, if not a ten. I feel fucking awful.
“Wow Jen. You look beautiful,” I say as she steps out onto the front step and closes the door behind her.
She blushes. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“Thank you. Shall we go?”
“Absolutely. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
I put on a smile as we head towards the car. “You know me, I’m always hungry.”
Once we’re seated at the restaurant, I try to relax.
Try to act normal and talk about work stuff.
It seems like a safe, unromantic topic. Halfway through mains, after two attempts by Jennifer to talk about more personal things, the sparkle in her eyes fades.
She shifts her leg so it rests against mine under the table and I say, “Oh sorry,” and pull away.
After that, her smile comes and goes. When I ask her if she wants to order dessert, she politely declines.
All the while, last night’s conversation with Huxley plays on a loop in my head, together with the memory of hugging him. Something warm grows in my chest. My world feels upside down. There's no way I can feel like this about Huxley if I’m straight.
Perhaps I’ve been lying to myself for years. The male athletes I admired, those guys I kissed when I was drunk, my passionate support of Koa and the LGBT+ community. It seems the signs were always there. I just hadn’t met the right guy. Until now.
Accepting it is exciting, but it also scares the hell out of me.
How will my life change? How will people react?
Will they treat me differently? I’ve stood by Koa when he’s been discriminated against and dealt with homophobic pricks, so I know what I’m in for.
But the thing that scares me most is if Huxley doesn’t feel the same.
On the drive back, Jennifer seems to grow nervous: her voice is a little higher, her laughter forced, and there’s a weird tension settling between us. I sneak a few glances, her eyes meeting mine instantly, something akin to hope on her pretty face. Shit.
When I pull up outside her house, I don’t turn off the engine. Normally, I would walk a lady to the door, but I can’t risk giving the wrong impression any more than I already have. I’ve lead Jennifer on, that is clear. She doesn’t deserve it, and I feel like an absolute asshole.
“Thank you for a great evening, Jen,” I say, turning to face her but not removing my seatbelt. “The food was amazing.”
“It was really nice. I’m glad we finally did this.” Jennifer rests her hand on my shoulder. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“I think I’ll have to pass. I have an early morning tomorrow, helping my mum out at her place. I should get going.” It’s a complete lie.
The smile falls from Jennifer’s face for a second before it reappears. “No worries. I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Monday.” I nod.
“Okay, bye then.”
To my horror, Jennifer leans in to kiss me goodnight.
I aim for her cheek, but she manages to catch the corner of my mouth.
It’s awkward and clumsy and I quickly pull away, embarrassed for us both.
She clambers to get out of the car, struggling with her dress.
Jesus, I should have at least gotten out and opened the door for her.
I care about Jennifer and I don’t want to lose her as a friend. She’s an amazing person.
“Have a nice Sunday,” I say.
She doesn’t say another word, closing the car door with enough force to get her point across. And boy do I deserve it.
I wait until she’s safely inside before driving away. It’s the least I can do.
Once home, I greet Cazaly. I make a hot chocolate and take it to bed with me. What I need is Koa.
At 11:00 PM, I FaceTime him, hoping he’s up early even though it’s the weekend.
“Hey Oli, what’s up?”
“You look tired, Ko. Did you party too hard last night?” I turn onto my side and prop the phone up against a pillow. Koa’s in the same position, his face squashed against his pillow, his eyes lacking their usual brightness.
“God no. Our rehearsal schedule is killing me. They do longer hours here than at the Aussie Ballet. Opening night’s only a couple of weeks away.”
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Koa rubs his eyes, then blinks a few times. “Been awake for fifteen minutes, just couldn’t be bothered getting up. What have you been up to tonight? Can’t be that late. Maybe you should be out partying.”
I frown at my friend. “If I haven’t gone through a party phase by now then I probably never will. I went out to dinner with Jennifer. And I was right; she thought it was a date. It was awkward as fuck. Spent the whole night thinking about Huxley.”
Koa rolls his eyes, smiling. “Well, he is cute. Not my type but I can see why you’d like him.”
“You checked him out?” I exclaim.
“Only his profile pic. His account is on private. But you could send me some pics.”
I pick up my phone and turn over onto my other side. “Alright, I will. He is cute, isn’t he? The curly hair. And something about green eyes gets me every time.”
Koa laughs. “You know Oli, I never thought I’d be talking boys with you. Are you gonna ask him out?”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Ah, we went out last night to a bar for drinks. I said some stupid shit. Told him about kissing a boy. But I avoided being upfront, and I think he got annoyed. At the end, I hugged him for way too long. And then today…” I don’t finish my sentence, not wanting to face the ribbing I’m about to get.
“And today what?”
I groan. “Promise not to laugh.”
“Oh, I’m totally gonna laugh, so just get it over and done with and tell me.”
I look up at the ceiling so Koa can’t see my face straight on. “I may have let him know I’ve watched gay porn before.” When seconds go by in silence, I wonder if we’ve lost the connection. When I turn back to my phone, Koa’s face looks, well, constipated.
“What is that face? Say something!”
“Um…ah…what the fuck Oli! You watch gay porn! Since when?”
“That’s what you’re focused on? What about that I told Huxley I watched gay porn?”
“Nope! Not getting out of it that easy. Gay porn, spill.” Koa sits up, taking his phone with him, and stares into my soul.
“I just started, alright. I wanted to check it out. Do some research.”
“And…?”
“And what?” I say defensively, sitting up too.
“Oh my God, Oli. Did. You. Like. It?”
My face flushes so fast it’s like the time my mum caught me wanking when I was twelve.
Koa’s jaw drops, his eyes widening to comical proportions. “Oliver Turner, you dirty bitch. You got off to gay porn, didn’t you?”
“And you haven’t?”
“Never got off to straight porn.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?’
“You know exactly what that means. You really are bi, aren’t you?”
I let out a puff of air and nod. “Yeah, I think I might be. Now I just gotta find the courage to come clean with Huxley.”
Koa and I talk it through for a while and finally finish the call around 11:30. He advises me to be as honest as I can with Huxley and tell him I’ve never done anything with a guy before. Tell him I’m questioning my sexuality. Let Huxley know I’m interested.
Koa is right, of course. Now I just have to do something about it.
Even though it’s late, I send Huxley a message. If he’s asleep, hopefully his phone is on silent.
Me: Huxley, the truth is, I’m not sure who I am anymore. If you’re free tomorrow, can we please talk?
I place my phone on the charger and turn out the bedside lamp. I’m almost asleep when my phone vibrates.